


Reality Bites

by Lady_in_Red



Category: Pitch (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2017-10-12
Packaged: 2019-01-16 12:53:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12343065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_in_Red/pseuds/Lady_in_Red
Summary: "Pitch," the docuseries, has unexpected consequences for the featured players.





	Reality Bites

**Author's Note:**

> Posting from San Diego on my phone. Formatting weirdness and tags to be fixed later.

“The show has been cancelled.”

Ginny released the breath that caught in her throat the moment she’d seen Amelia’s name on her cell. They hadn’t spoken in months, since the day Ginny fired her, speaking through Elliot or via text rather than suffer through stilted phone calls.

“What does that mean?” she asked, more relieved than anything else. The past few weeks had been hell.

“It means no cameras next season. You’ll be like every other player.” Amelia didn’t sound happy about that, but she’d always wanted Ginny to become an empire, not just a pitcher.

“Good. Thanks for calling me.”

Amelia sighed. “It’s what you wanted, right?”

Ginny nodded even though Amelia couldn’t see her. “Yeah, it is.” She hung up before her ex-agent could say anything else. Maybe another time they could talk, hash out what had gone wrong between them, but not right now. Now Ginny’s thoughts were spinning.

The cameras had shown up at the hotel the day she arrived in San Diego, part of a new baseball series Fox Sports had cooked up to compete with HBO’s NFL series “Hard Knocks.” They called it “Pitch,” and the idea was to follow a different team each season. San Diego wasn’t even on their radar until Ginny was called up, but it hadn’t taken much for Amelia to convince them that documenting Ginny Baker’s rookie season was a once in a lifetime opportunity. Within hours, the show had been rebooted and focused on her and her teammates.

Having a bunch of cameras in the clubhouse hadn’t made fitting in with her teammates any easier, but they’d adjusted. They all got too used to the cameras, honestly. Sonny and Dusty in particular hammed it up for the cameras like it was their job. Trying to maintain some privacy left them all struggling to communicate effectively sometimes. Months later she still vividly remembered the awkward conversation she and Mike had had in the clubhouse, trying to talk through their almost-kiss without revealing anything to the cameraman she hadn’t been able to escape.

Ginny had been in North Carolina when the show started airing. It was strange, seeing herself on TV, not on the mound or in the dugout but just living her life. And for the first time, she realized how often the cameras had followed Al, Oscar, and Blip. And Mike. Especially Mike. They’d barely spoken since her injury. She’d gone home to Tarboro while her strained ligaments slowly healed, and the team split up for the offseason as soon as they failed to make the playoffs.

With the show putting her back in the spotlight, Ginny’s anonymity was gone. She’d gotten used to it in San Diego, but after a few weeks of being left alone in North Carolina, she began to resent people asking for autographs at the grocery store. And she really hated how people felt the need to give their opinions about her teammates. They were happy when Tommy was traded, because they didn’t see him apologize to her, away from the cameras. They didn’t see the time they put in training together, or how great he was with the fans. They took sides when Blip and Evelyn fought over the All-Star game, and they started hassling Trevor on Twitter when the show revealed that he was the source of her nude photos.

Most of all, the female viewers of the show, and there were plenty, fell for Mike Lawson. Hard. Ginny couldn’t really blame them. The show stripped away his cocky persona and revealed the parts of him that Ginny had seen almost from the beginning: his loyalty, his devotion, his leadership, his need to belong and be loved. And the fans hated Rachel for hurting him. Mike finally had to release a statement asking the fans to leave her alone, because of course they hadn’t seen the full season yet and didn’t realize that he and Rachel had reconciled.

Elliot, still technically employed by Amelia, kept Ginny in the loop on all the drama surrounding the show. The low-rated show, to Ginny’s relief and the network’s disappointment. The fans they did have, however, were fiercely loyal and deeply invested. It was a double-edged sword.

Ginny had returned to San Diego just after the World Series, quietly moving her few possessions into a furnished condo overlooking Mission Bay. She got her California driver’s license and let Livan talk her into leasing a Tesla. She had her groceries delivered and never wore Padres gear when she went running.

By mid-November, the show was headed into its home stretch, and Ginny had started seriously rehabbing her arm. Ratings remained flat, but the fans were even more vocal than they’d been at the beginning. Elliot had reluctantly explained that there was a large group of fans shipping Bawson, the couple portmanteau for Mike and Ginny. After Mike awkwardly chastised Omar for crushing on her, the hashtag trended for days, and fans sent her more grape soda than she could drink in five years.

The episode with Mike’s failed trade aired right after Thanksgiving. And Ginny learned the hard way not to trust when a cameraman said he was leaving. The man who’d left them at Boardner’s had hidden just out of sight and captured every word of their conversation and every second that Ginny was in Mike’s arms. Her phone blew up immediately, her social media swamped with both swooning fans and irate ones.

After a full 24 hours of the worst kind of Ginnsanity, Ginny slipped out the back of her condo building and into Livan’s car. Grumbling about possible damage to his expensive rims, he dropped her off in the alley behind Blip and Evelyn’s house. Oscar arrived at the house furious that the club and MLB had been blindsided. He didn’t care that Ginny had been just as blindsided, and he refused to believe her until Mike confirmed that nothing more had ever happened between them.

Ginny didn’t find out until later that night that Mike had talked to Oscar while sitting on the porch of his house in L.A. He’d come home to find a box of his things on the porch and the locks changed. When he tried to call Rachel, she’d sent him a link to her latest Tweet: “Baker can have him.” The reconciliation they’d never made public was over.

Noah’s reaction was swift and private, though she hadn't spoken to him since September. His attorney called threatening to sue her if she ever commented publicly about their two-week fling. While he'd signed a release, neither of them had realized how much was filmed. Ginny had definitely never noticed the cameras in her hotel suite.

The flurry of media attention and even a spike in ratings for the final episode, the one where she almost got a no-hitter and almost ended her career, didn’t change the league’s unhappiness with the show. While Amelia’s call was unexpected, the news she delivered was not.

A week before Christmas, Ginny was at PETCO, warming up to throw a few pitches for Buck before the entire club shut down for the holidays. Ginny was scheduled to fly back to North Carolina for Christmas, but she wasn’t looking forward to it. The show had deeply strained her relationship with Will, who had taken advantage of her even more than she’d originally realized. That much Ginny had forgiven Amelia for.

With everything going on, she needed this time at the ballpark to center herself, to remind herself of who she was and what she wanted. Ginny Baker, #43, starting pitcher for the San Diego Padres. Her dream, and nothing a canceled docuseries could take away from her. Nothing one bad throw could end. Not if she had anything to say about it.

The door opened behind her, and Ginny lightly kicked the bucket of balls beside her. “I’m thinking sliders today, okay, Buck?”

“Whatever you want, rookie.”

Ginny froze. She hadn’t heard that gruff voice in months. She turned and found Mike leaning against the door. He wore his practice uniform, full pads, and his mask was tipped back on his head. A shiver of awareness ran through her. “Where’s Buck?” she asked.

He shrugged, the corner of his mouth curling up in a half smile. “Left early. Told him I wanted to work with you today.”

Work. Right. She nodded. “Sure.”

His head cocked as he eyed her. “You going to listen to my calls?”

The gentle teasing was so welcome she couldn’t help but smile. “Maybe.”

Mike chuckled and pushed off the door to brush past her and drop into a crouch in front of the net. She saw him grimace but didn’t say anything. They both knew his knees were on borrowed time. Mike might never be ready to hang up his cleats, but he wouldn’t have a choice, sooner than any of them might like. Except maybe Livan, and even he had softened toward their captain.

“Show me that slider.” He held up his glove and waited, his eyes intent on Ginny.

She threw the pitch, and the next one he called, and the next, until sweat beaded on her lip and trickled down her back, and her elbow twinged with each pitch.

“That’s enough.” Mike levered himself up, wincing, and rubbed absently at his lower back as he shoved off his mask and started loosening his pads with one hand.

Without the rhythm of practice to distract her, Ginny felt the tension between them. Months of unspoken questions, little revelations gleaned from the show crowding into her mind. He listened to her hum. He knew all her dietary quirks. He stole her bacon when she wasn’t looking. “I should get going,” she said, wiping the sweat from her brow.

“Ginny.”

The uncertainty in his voice stopped her. It was so much like that night, she could hardly breathe. All she could do was look at him, how hesitantly he moved toward her and how he nervously ran a hand over his beard.

“I watched the show.” That was a surprise. Mike hadn’t liked the cameras. Oscar had had to convince him that it was good for the team, and even then Mike kept his guard up. She hadn’t expected him to want to watch.

“So did I,” she admitted. As well as she’d thought she knew Mike Lawson, she’d seen another side of him. She’d seen a man still hoping to salvage his marriage. A man who cared deeply for his friends. A man she never should have touched. “I'm sorry.” The words slipped out before she could think about them.

His arms crossed. “For what?”

Ginny couldn’t take the way he was looking at her, like he saw her every thought. Funny how she used to think that she wanted to be known completely and perfectly by a man. So many of her problems with Trevor came from the way they held each other at a distance. She looked away. “I hope you and Rachel can work things out.”

“I don’t.” The words were clipped, certain.

Ginny’s gaze snapped up to his face. “Why not?”

One hand scraped through Mike’s beard. “I watched us. I didn’t like what I saw.”

Ginny didn’t know what to say to that. She wasn’t sure it was smart to say anything at all.

His gaze cut back to her. “I watched us too.”

Ginny’s heart started pounding, a smile creeping onto her face. “Me too.”

Mike took a step forward, then another, cutting the distance between them. “I miss us,” he said quietly, a warmth in his tone that she had desperately missed.

“So do I,” she admitted, then realized he might just mean their batterymate dynamic, and she tried to shrug carelessly. “But there’s no guarantee I’ll make the roster next season.”

Mike frowned. “You’ll make the roster, rookie.” He moved toward her again, and reached out to gently squeeze her pitching arm. “The team needs you.” His frown turned into a mischievous smile. “You sell too many tickets to cut.”

Ginny huffed out a breath. “Thanks, old man.”

He dropped his hand, but remained close. His gaze took her in, slowly, from the ball still clutched in her hand like a security blanket to the way her teeth worried at her lip. “Do you want to get some dinner?”

Ginny couldn’t keep her eyes on him, too nervous about what he might see in them. She stared at the initials marked on his chest protector, angrily added after Livan took his gear once by mistake. “Just us?”

Mike chuckled. “Of course. Unless you’re scared to be alone with me without the cameras following us around.”

She looked up and his eyes were full of mischief, his chin tipped up in challenge. “I don’t miss the cameras.”

He reached out and took the ball from her hand. “Then come with me.”

Ginny followed him.

Dinner wasn't half as awkward as she expected. Mike drove them up to Pacific Beach and suggested a walk on the beach before margaritas at a bar with a patio overlooking the ocean. They made a meal out of appetizers and traded stories, keeping away from meaningful topics.

It was fun, and Ginny had to admit, if only to herself, how much she’d missed Mike’s smile and his barking laugh. His eyes twinkled in a way a friend probably shouldn't notice, but just being with him warmed her more than the alcohol.

And then Mike asked if she wanted to see his place. He’d put it on the market and she might not get another chance. Too many crazy fans had found the place with a little help from Google.

It was a terrible idea. The worst, really, but she nodded and watched the highway spool out in front of them as they drove up to La Jolla.

Mike started talking the minute they pulled into his driveway, but Ginny didn't hear a word. Her heart was pounding too hard, blood rushing in her ears.

She was standing in Mike’s living room, which she’d only seen on TV. Amelia coming down his stairs. Mike calling her after the All-Star game. Mike watching the analysts predicting the end of her career.

“Ginny?”

She turned, saw him standing there with his brow furrowed, his eyes full of concern.

This was all so crazy, trying to wrap her brain around what she knew from living and what she knew from carefully edited footage. And Mike was right here. He'd seen it all too.

She took a step toward him, then another before Mike moved toward her. They met in front of his couch, and this time Ginny didn't hesitate. Her hand slid around his neck, her fingers sliding through the short hairs at his nape, and felt the tickle of his beard against her skin as her lips found his.

Mike let out a surprised breath and then his arms were around her, his body pressed tightly against hers, hot and hard and so perfect Ginny felt dizzy.

She could barely breathe, the kiss turning from sweet exploration to ravenous possession. There was a couch under him and Ginny was straddling his lap and she didn't know when or how that had happened, only that Mike’s lips and tongue against her throat was heavenly and his hands gripping her ass, helping her slowly ride the bulge in his jeans were driving her toward an embarrassingly fast climax.

“What are we doing, Gin?” he whispered against her ear, then sucked the lobe into his mouth.

Ginny shivered. Long term, she didn't have an answer. For now, though, she knew. “Making each other happy.”

Mike chuckled against her throat, and one hand snaked up her back under her shirt to deftly unfasten her bra. “Let’s go upstairs.”

Ginny shook her head, and Mike pulled back to search her gaze. “No?” His eyes widened as he remembered, and he sighed. “Okay.”

Ginny had no desire to go to bed with Mike where he'd fucked Amelia and god knows how many groupies. Maybe it was silly and she'd get over it, but this--tonight--felt important. It didn't feel like something they'd blame on the tequila in the morning.

Away from the team, the cameras, the pressure of her injury and his failing joints, Mike pulled Ginny’s shirt off over her head, and Ginny did the same. Somehow they managed to strip off jeans and leggings and underwear without breaking contact. Mike managed to groan a few questions about tests and birth control while her hand lazily stroked his cock, and Ginny had never been so grateful to be able to soothe his worries and just take him inside.

Mike’s breath caught, his pupils blown wide as he looked up at her, rising over him. When his breath huffed out, he whispered almost helplessly, “Love you.”

Ginny grinned, sank down until he filled her, completely and perfectly, skin to skin from thighs to shoulders as she wrapped her arms around him and didn't let her worries get between them. “Love you, too, old man.”

 

 


End file.
